Oysters & Allies
by Thalius
Summary: Fred reflects on newfound allegiances and potential dinner plans. A bit of fluffy introspection set directly after Halo 5.


_Spartans on Sangheili soil._

A first. A very significant first.

Fred observed the Arbiter's camp from the rocky overhang at the south end of the grounds where the UNSC had set up shop. They were camped just by the ocean, which meant they might be able to have a more substantial meal than the squashed MREs shoved in his suit's pockets while awaiting contact with _Infinity_.

He also observed a clear line between the territory of the humans and the Sangheili—they mingled and spoke amicably, but the geography of where UNSC tech stopped and Elite equipment and tents began was distinct. Regardless of the obvious display of territory, the simple fact that they were so closely packed and no bullets were flying or plasma splashing unnerved him. Thel had made it clear that this was a place of peace, but the tension left from a thirty-year genocidal war had not yet eased out of the shoulders of either side. There were some Elites visibly on edge with the number of Spartans in such close proximity, and so he kept his rifle close.

TEAMCOM buzzed once as a sharp click, and he looked over to where Kelly stood, several metres away from another jutting rock—she was observing, too. Her head cocked in question.

"I was thinking oysters for dinner. Or whatever constitutes molluscs here," he replied over the encrypted channel.

"I wouldn't mind a swim," she responded. Her helmet turned, looking toward Thel's tent. "Need permission to go diving first, though."

He nodded. Kelly obviously hadn't seen anything suspicious amongst the Swords of Sanghelios, or she wouldn't be responding to his meal plan. Fred relaxed.

"Go on. Move slow."

A green light of acknowledgement winked on his HUD, and he watched her descend from her post with careful, deliberate movements. His fingers danced over the trigger guard of his rifle when he saw a number of Elites' heads jerk up to watch Kelly stride past their camp and towards Thel's tent, but no one raised a hand to stop her.

These were odd times, indeed.

His focus shifted over to Linda; she sat near the lone, battered Pelican, going through the precise motions of oiling the barrel of Nornfang. She still wore her helmet, and he could see the goggles of her visor twirling and extending, magnifying her view of the sniper in her hands. She was doing a thorough cleaning, then. He relaxed further.

Commander Palmer observed Linda close by. Although more than a little bit beaten up, she was still on her feet and trying to fix the sputtering engines of the Pelican. Spartan Tanaka was beside her working on the other wing of the bird, a mix of tools slipping in and out of her fingers as they were used, placed aside, and picked up again with a fluidity that spoke of years of experience. He made a mental note of the woman's mechanical expertise. With how low-stocked they were right now and no guarantees of raising _Infinity_ , they might be able to negotiate a trade with the Arbiter—repairs for supplies.

Olympia Vale and Spartan Buck stood on the threshold of the UNSC's unspoken boundary, having an emphatic conversation with a pair of Sangheili. An odd looking toy orb was in Vale's hand that she spun expertly in her grasp, and Fred watched her until she eventually twisted the interlocking rings and plates of the toy to reveal some sort of pearl or gemstone, much to the amazement of the Elites and her team member. Another potential asset they could use.

He'd been dubious of the IVs, but then he had been reluctant to trust the Gammas on Onyx, too, so he took solace in being wrong with his initial assessments. It was good to know that Blue Team weren't the only capable military personnel on the Sangheili homeworld.

Finally he looked to John, the only one among them with his helmet off, something he knew Chief likely wasn't happy about. He was seated at one of the several campfire circles scattered around the grounds, atop a fallen tree that seemed to be protesting his great weight. Halsey was standing in front of him, threading a needle through the skin over his right brow with surprising dexterity of her one hand in order to seal the gash left by his altercation with Spartan Locke. Fred could see they were having a conversation, but was too far away to hear it.

The Doctor was happier than he had seen her in a long time. Fred had no illusions about her favour of the Chief, though he had far too much else to worry about to be concerned with playing favourites. He wasn't the one being fussed over, and Halsey was content, so who was he to complain?

"Lieutenant."

He looked down, brought out of his thoughts to see Jameson Locke standing at the base of the overhang, looking up at him. The man's helmet was off, and his expression was calm and serious.

"Spartan Locke," Fred replied. He resisted the urge the snap a salute. He was Locke's superior, but the man exuded a quiet confidence that made his back instinctively straighten.

"I'd like to discuss our next move. We've made contact with a UNSC vessel—if you'd come down to speak, sir? I'd speak with the Chief, but he seems preoccupied."

"Of course." He half-slid, half walked down the slope of the copper-coloured rocks, coming to a stop next to Locke. Fred gave another brief sweep of the area before deciding there wasn't any immediate threat of a firefight, and motioned for Locke to lead on.

"This way." Locke moved towards the Pelican—the only source they had for long-range communications. Fred nodded to Linda as they passed, giving her a _be ready_ gesture that made her straighten and set down her rifle, adjusting into a cross-legged pose. He didn't have a direct line of sight on Kelly, but he knew she'd be hyperfocused for any new developments.

Maybe they wouldn't have time to eat Sangheili oysters after all.

When they entered the Pelican, Locke turned to address him. He tapped a few keys on the central console and an encoded message appeared on the holographic screen.

"We received an encrypted transmission from the ONI Prowler _Camarilla_. They've lost contact with _Infinity_ , who initiated an emergency slipspace jump at 0412 earlier this morning, and haven't responded to any hails."

"Is Cortana pursuing them?"

"Unknown, but likely. Whatever's happened, they haven't responded." Locked closed the message, and the cabin dimmed.

"So we'll be stuck here until the Prowler or another vessel can pick us up," Fred surmised.

Locke nodded. "Yes, sir. They told us to get cozy—they're about seventy-two hours away from the planet."

"Have they contacted the Arbiter to tell them they're arriving?" Thel might be fine with a few humans on his planet, but a UNSC stealth vessel appearing unannounced in his skies wouldn't be good for business.

"I'm to inform him next. I just wanted to make you aware of the situation first, sir."

Fred nodded. "Thank you. I'll let the rest of Blue Team know." He began to mentally map out a schedule; they had three days minimum until the _Camarilla_ arrived, and they all needed sleep. They could do without it if necessary, but it had been five days since they'd last gotten a real break, and even then Chief had been lining up assignments for them to a near-obsessive degree.

However, he wasn't sure how comfortable he was taking a snooze on the Elite homeworld. _We'll take shifts—just in case._

Locke nodded, preparing to leave the Pelican, then stopped at its threshold. He looked back at Fred, features carefully neutral. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"ONI… they may arrest the four of you when they arrive. I'm not certain of how much they know, but I find it interesting they're this close by and ready to assist."

Fred's mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile. Their status as AWOL had somehow slipped his mind. _Definitely need a nap._

"I'll try not to struggle too much," he responded. Locke seemed surprised at the joke, but smiled and ducked out of the Pelican, leaving Fred alone with thoughts of campfire-cooked oysters.


End file.
